One Night
by Wili.lia
Summary: No magic. Ginny, after a break-up, decides to go to a bar. Rated T for a reason! NOT a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! It's me. I haven't really done any stories recently... ¡Pero aqui es un! :) Before you read, wipe out everything you know about Harry Potter and company. Now replace the blank slate with names, and fuzzy faces. Make the little sixteen and seventeen year olds in twenty-two years old people. Take away their wands and robes! And place them in United States. Now continue to read and review, please!**

**Constructive criticism is awesome, and if you would like to be my beta... just say so in the review. Having a beta would be awesome!**

**Here's a disclaimer for the entire book: I don't own Harry Potter. Enjoy!**

CHAPTER ONE

The phone rang, furiously vibrating for me to answer. I didn't have to look at the caller-ID to know who it was. I turned my back and went back to applying the thick black mascara in the miniscule mirror. I rarely ever put on so much makeup, but who cares? It's a new day, well... It's a new night, and I can do anything I like! I am free from the restraints of Dean.

The iPhone's continuous buzz brought my thoughts back to it. The repetitive noise suddenly stopped when I reached for it. Holding it in the palm of my hand, I pondered if I should take the phone with me. Something could happen, and I would have to call someone... or... What the hell, I'll just take it; doesn't mean I have to use it.

I slipped on the dark blue flats. I felt the skimpy dress rise to such a height my mother would be ashamed of. I gathered the fabric in my hands and realized perhaps I should just stay home and do boring stay-at-home things. But the red little man with tiny, sharp horns in me told me different. I glanced at the image of me in the mirror by the door. A slightly tall girl was shown wearing a small blue dress with ribbons of yellow cutting though the dress like heavenly rays of sunshine breaking up the sky on a late summer eve. Her curvy figure was completed with healthy, muscled legs that sang of running in the sun. She held her head high, a nicely curved face with silky red hair tied into a bun that threatening to unravel. I would say she looked quite pretty, and then I remembered that is girl is me. I smiled, my soul feeling free and enlightened. Grabbing my keys and stuffing the phone inside the yellow handbag, I walked out the door.

As I walked the sidewalk bordering the bar, I could hear the drunk grumbles of uncreative hook-up lines and horrible flirting. Once again I wondered if I should go back home. But, I want to do this. I need a break from everything. I moved to open the door, but it abruptly swung out to meet me.

A few of unsober men stepped out. Their steps were slow, their speech slurred with each syllable, pronouncing each part with careful false consideration. One held the neck of the bottle, stroking the label with great care and a few stuttering lines about how much he adored it. The other let the door open for me with a trace of a mock bow in my general direction. I grunted at him before briskly escaping the men and walking inside.

The interior was quite ordinary, with the scent of too much cologne, too much perfume, and the incredibly amount of alcohol. I walked in the direction of the leather bar stools and plopped down. The dark walls I glanced around at my surroundings, seeing who was here and who was there. The black marbled couches were weighed down slutty girls with their on-again-off-again boyfriends. The thought made me reflect on myself. I did have a small dress that showed 90% of my legs. Did that qualify me as a slut? It wasn't like I did this every night.

"So, beauty, what do you want?" a male voiced. I slowly glanced up to see a bartender who wasn't that bad looking. I thought maybe I could have a little fun with this guy, I'm single after all. And who doesn't come to a bar just for a drink?

I leaned over, tipping my chest to touch the top of the counter, and gazed at him through my lashes. "Give me the strongest," I whispered softly, letting my breath tickle his lips. I then leaned back and smiled sweetly. "Please."

He nodded after staring cooly at my chest. His blonde hair was a point to where you could call it silver, and his tight white shirt hugged his upper body. It was thrilling to think of all the daring thoughts I could savour in my mind. I could think of whatever and not be guilty of it. When my ex was generous, it was hard to even think about a guy's good-looks. He was simple, but always kind and generous which caused my heart to break and let him in. I told him my life story. Dean listened. He kissed me, reassured me, and I thought he loved me. He began to always kiss me, kiss my neck, my face, to a point where we had no more conversations. Something was missing, I felt it and soon I asked him about it. Dean simply brushed it away. Reflecting on the past months, I came to realization that I loved him. He took my childhood and spoiled my soul. I knew he didn't love me, I wished and pretended the opposing fact. Through my blindness, after eight-month "relationship", I dumped him and his black heart and sent him away.

I was harshly pulled back to reality by the bartender placing down my drink. I felt uneasy, stunned by how much Dean actually hurt me. And all the men in this place could be just like him, just using me for my body. A rush of overwhelmed panic shook my body. I lifted the drink, eager to rid the shaking. I tipped my head back, the shot hot and coiled with the taste of liquor. I felt my body still.

I got up from the chair and walked over to the mass of dancing. The bass maddeningly beat in time with my heart. I twisted my body and thrashed my arms up with a supposedly good song. So many bodies were pressed, bumping one another It was hard to say if you were dancing with one person or four. The lyrics of the sung spouted from my mouth, even though I've never heard it before. I felt a hand grip mine and twirl me around. Did it matter who it as? No, not at all. I felt them closer to me than anyone else. I guessed it was a him, for when I dared a glance, the writhing body was well defined with a bit of muscle and a dark stubble on his chin. He reached behind me for the small of my back. He brought me closer to him, where I felt his surprisingly fresh breath on my mouth. His hand moved south and groped my bum, cupping it in the palm of his hand. I placed a hand on his chest, feeling the racing heart held inside. I didn't care who it was. I didn't care about what would happen. I felt free and fearless.

A door unlocked. An open-mouthed kiss. A step or two from the mass of cushions and pillows. With the exotic feeling of excitedness, a hunger was created. I wanted to know this stranger's map of his features. I wanted to know the layout of his body. His hands fumbled with his shirt. I pulled away from him, peeling off my dress. I was welcomed into him with a more than satisfactory kiss. This night would be so much more with this strange in my arms.

**If you realized, I know nothing about shots... Oops! Did you enjoy? I think I will update once a week... What do you think? Please review and tell me if you liked it**. **Also, should the chapter be longer or shorter? I just want to know the feel of what you guys would like to read.****  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Happiness! She's alive! Yes, I didn't die... I simply did other stuff. Don't punish me! So yeah... here it is! Have fun? By the way, tons of people from other countries saw this. And that's absolutely amazing! Review and tell me where you're from. I love knowing people from across the world are actually seeing this. It's so exciting!**

**One more thing, I'm thinking about updating every Sunday. How does that sound?**

**Back to the story, read and review please and blah blah blah. Enjoy!**

A pale light peeked through the charcoal curtains. The bed was warm and comfortable. I stretched, opening my mouth wide while peeling my hands away from the white sheets and flinging them to ceiling. I smiled with contempt of my awakened muscles. I looked over, my red hair spilling over the cool pillow. With dreary eyes, I realized this atmospheric paint was not my usually gold. Also, the door was a deep gray, with a mahogany door knob. Where am I? I quickly gave the room an inspection. To my left was the door. Right beside the bed was a low shelf with a white lamp. I peeked at the books packed neatly in the shelves: Stephen King, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis. Everything was so strange and unfamiliar, with wide eyes I took a fleeting look to my right.

"Oh my God!" The deep voice of the handsome stranger laying in front of me rang in my ears. In shock I sat up, the white linens falling from my shoulders. And only then I realized I was naked. My cheeks burn as I snatched the sheets and tugged them quickly to cover my chest. I felt the mattress tip in his direction, I figured he was sitting up, too. I dared a look at him. For a fleeting moment, I wondering what his reaction to all this embarrassment and realization of the lust we had followed through last night. He was just reaching over to select something on a shelf similar to the one on the bed's left. When he stood straighter, returning to where he was moments earlier, he had dark rimmed glasses on. They were simple, but elegant. Their circular shape made him look like an owl. The glasses were like translucent glass over his eyes. Tentatively I reached over and slowly pulled the bifocals off. Now the image of his irises was as clear as day. His eyes were a soft sort of green, growing darker as it reached his pupils. I leaned forward ever so slightly, and spied a mossy light green on the edges of his bold irises. I was entranced by the treasure of beauty that his eyes possessed. My eyes traveled down to his lips, shaped into a small frown. He had a slight stubble on his chin. He gazed expectantly at me, waiting for something to happen. The white linens were not exactly conserving his own body. I willed myself not to stare at the dusting of dark hair at the peak of his chest; or the lean stature of his abdomen.

"I have to go," I muttered, turning to look at the door. I fiddles with the rims in my hand, turning them over and over, anxious to hear his response.

"Okay..."

Silence.

...

...

"Would you like some breakfast?" A noise bubbled from my throat. His deep chuckling soon accompanied mine. The sounds poured from us, shooing the tension away. Before long, my stomach ached with happiness. Tears of joy raced down my face as my laughter grew louder. When the last twitters were voiced, I stared at him. His face was bright with a smile, creases near his eyes were barely showing. His inklike hair was unsettled and a mess. Everything about him was carefree and gracious. He stared straight ahead. Following his gaze I saw a map of the world. Red pins littered the atlas.

"What-"

"It's just a map of places," he interrupted. His voice was suddenly low and serious. When he turned to me, his face only echoed of the laughter. Once again he asked if I wanted some breakfast. Shrugging, I replied, "Why not."

A grin passed between us, and he was just about to get up when I remembered what we had done. We were both most likely naked. I reached for his hand and pulled him back into the bed. Awkwardness started to stir, and I looked away, removing my hand. Suddenly, a tsunami of images of what could have happened flooded through me. I felt the awkwardness settle in the deepest parts of me, drowning me. I wanted to go, and leave this man who I had slept with. I should not have breakfast with him. But why do I feel like I _do_want to stay. I had a sense of pleasant friendliness, but I also had an urge to tell this strange man sorry for what I did and leave. A battle of emotions roared through my brain. _I should leave! I should stay, he isn't hurting you! But what happened, it will be too..._I focused all my attention on his glasses. His hands suddenly interfered with my engrossment of glass and plastic. I watched as his lavish fingers precisely obtained his seeing things and he put them on.

"I'm sorry, for everything. I do have to go," I whispered. With the sheets firmly in my hand, I waited for his response.

I heard him sigh slowly. "I'll get your clothes," he said.

I sat in the bed, waiting for something to happen. Suddenly the bed moved, and I saw him stand up. I clumsily covered up eyes with one hand. I heard him pad supposedly across the room. A door creaked, but it seemed far away. Impatiently I bobbed my head. I moved it back and forth, in rhythm with some strange sound instantly created within the measures of my mind. I tried anything to distract my thoughts from going to far. There was shuffling somewhere in the room, then footsteps followed. I peeked through my fingers, stopping the beat of music and saw that he had clothes on; a pale green shirt matched with a pair of cargo shorts. Letting my hand fall to my lap, I watched his backside as he turned the doorknob and walked out the door.

He soon came back with the dress in his hands, as well as a yellow purse. I blushed as he handed me my lace pair of underthings. He smiled a small smile before walking back out the door. I stood up, and locked the door carefully. I checked the room, then let the sheets fall from my body. I quickly pulled on the panties, as well as the bra. Trying not to tear the dress, I slid it over my head and watched the way it spilled across my flat stomach. Pulling the material down, I spied the map. I ambled over to it, causally flinging lone piece of clothing with my foot.

I shuffled over to the map. It was quite big. The red pins were set upon different locations. Many were in England, while I saw a few in Asia, Africa, some were in Canada, there was even one in Australia. Gazing at where I lived, I saw that Stanford, California only had one pin, and it was actually blue. Looking carefully at the rest, I saw there was only two other blue pins. Maybe where he lived? One of the blue pins were in the north, somewhere in Alaska, and the other was on the tip of India. Surprised by the difference I wanted to ask him, but seeing how he treated the subject earlier...

"Ginevra?" His voice paired with the knocking on the door caused me to jump. I let out a few shaky laughs at my action. "Are you okay?"

I paraded to the door, unlocking it with a twist of my hand, and turned the doorknob. "I'm fine," I said to his face. "Thank you for my clothes."

I brushed past him, walking toward an opening in the wall. Stepping through the entry into his living room, spying the door ahead of me. The kitchen was at my right, with a wooden table waiting for someone to come and eat. It was quite a pleasant apartment. The living room was painted a dark gray, with couches so white it hurt your eyes. There was also a TV set up, which was a bit large. The kitchen was comfortable and homey. ]

"It's not much, but it's something." His voice popped up behind me. I pivoted, ready to say something to him. Something nice, like "Thank you," but nothing came out. I spotted my flats. I slipped them on, gave a half wave, and opened the door to hallway filled with doors, each numbered 3-something-something. I softly closed the door, viewing his face for a mere two seconds. The number on his door was 317.

**So how did you like it? It kinda feels like a soap opera to me, does anyone else get that same vibe? Anyways, be sure to leave a review and stuff.**

**Also, about California: I don't know a thing about it. I've done a lot of research and stuff, so if you live in California, tell me how it is! And if you go to Stanford, tell me how it is! Thanks!**

**Gosh I wonder if anyone actually read this... but one more question! I promise! This chapter was 1427 words. Should it be longer or shorter? Last chapter was 1212. Maybe if I should try for 1500 next chapter. What do ya'll think?**


End file.
